Seven Ways to Grieve
by Simple Enigma
Summary: Post movie i.e. spoilers! Written to run as an episode, with each character having thier own chance for closure, with a little plot mixed in!
1. Closure for the moment

Seven Ways to Grieve

Spoilers for the big damn movie!

* * *

Zoë opened her eyes. She hadn't really been sleeping anyway. Sleeping alone was hard for her after so long with the weight of him in her bed, the warmth of his body and the touch of his skin; it was too soon for her to forget. However, she was determined to lay down every night and close her eyes, her logictold herthat if she did it enough times eventually her body would get used to it and one night she would simply drift off. Eventually didn't really appeal to her, but she was trying. For a long moment, she stared into the emptiness next to her, a black void sapping at her emotions. Moving mechanically she detached herself from their bed and got dressed, strapping on her vest and pulling on her boots with little effort. The hard part was looking into the mirror and pulling back her hair, splashing her face with water without thinking about the action itself. It didn't take long for her to get ready.

Outside their bunk she took two steps towards the kitchen and changed her mind, Mal would be awake, probably already in the cockpit by now, it would be best to check in with him first.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked before she got the chance to announce herself.

"Fine sir." her eyes fixed on Mal, she took in his intent expression, staring down at the controls, going over something entirely different in his thoughts. There was a list of information scrolling upwards on the view screen pertaining to a man by the name of 'Terrance R. Smith' Zoë cocked an eyebrow.

"A new job sir?"

"Prospective at least, got a wave early this morning 'bout a crate needs transporting." Zoë decided not to comment on the fact that it was already early in the morning, it was no secret that the captain hadn't been sleeping much of late either.

"From where sir?"

"An unterriformed moon some place, that's the trouble, the last person picked this up had to dump it when they thought the alliance might be catching on."

"Marked goods?"

"My guess."

"So we pick up this crate, which may or may not be marked, transport it a few sectors, drop it off, and get paid?"

"Something near that fashion."

"Why haven't these people done it themselves that easy? There must be a catch."

"Well if there is, he aint talking."

"Wouldn't think so sir."

"His file checks out fine."

"Well things aren't always how they look."

Mal glanced in her direction, running his eyes over her face, hard as rock, not letting on to anything. "Don't I know it."

"We taken the job then?"

"Only one thing will keep her in the sky, Kaylee has been asking for a new compression coil for long time, still trying to pay of the repairs." Mal turned to Zoë with a look of defeat, and she shrugged. "There's always a catch, and we're bound to find it." he smiled at her with obvious affection, Zoë was the best he had, had always been, he was worried about her and though he tried to hide it, she could blatantly tell. "Get yourself some breakfast Zoë, brief Jayne and the others, prep the suits; we'll be there in 'bout three hours."

"Yes sir." She turned and left without any preamble, or goodbye, leaving Mal with a sick feeling in his stomach and an ache in his shoulders he could only attribute to the anvil of guilt he dragged everywhere he went.

* * *

Kaylee was crying again. She had been doing a lot of that lately. curled in the corner of the engine room she wiped her greasy hand on her overalls, succeeding only in picking up more grease, before transferring it to her face in a clumsy attempt at wiping away her tears.

"This is not the time to be crying." Wash told her, sitting across from her, leaning against the engine, wearing the flight suit he had died in, hair a muss, crooked grin, looking at her lopsided as he leaned his face in his hand.

"Remember when you first came on this boat Kaylee, never been up in a ship, never seen the vastness of space except in your imagination. All you knew was your home and your folks, and I showed you the stars. Sure Mal helped some, and it was a good thing we had Serenity to take us up, but I took you there, I brought her off the ground for the first time, after all your hard work. We showed you a life more brilliant than all the seven suns. This became home. Serenity became family. This is no time to cry, not when I love your smile so much, love the way you light a room. Just keep smiling Kaylee."

She tried again to wipe her eyes, sniffing, she put on a brave face and gave Wash her best smile.

"That's my girl," he cooed, "look how pretty you are! I always had the suspicion that you have the damn prettiest smile in the verse, next to my Zoë of course. I know Simon thinks that, not the Zoë part I figure, but it's true, he told me."

Kaylee blushed; giving the wiping of her eyes one last effort and turning pink all over her cheeks and nose.

"He did! He thinks you're the prettiest thing about this boat, and that's damn impressive."

Kaylee giggled quietly, trying not to show how abashed she was.

"Come on," Wash continued with barely a pause, "You know he thinks that. 'Oh Kaylee, hi, wow, you have grease on you' really means he's sayin', 'damn, how can a woman look so beautiful with engine grease on her' if I wasn't faithfully married, I would have beat Simon to you a long time ago." he raised an eyebrow, "'cause you're so pretty."

Kaylee laughed, she felt like she had had this conversation before, but it didn't matter, it was making her feel better.

"Kaylee?" it was Simon this time, coming into the engine room looking slightly confused, which seemed to be in his nature, Kaylee shot up startled, but Wash looked nonchalantly over his shoulder at the doctor as though he had been waiting for him this whole time. Kaylee looked at the doctor, than looked back at Wash once or twice, wondering why Simon didn't think it odd that Wash, dead these few months, was sitting next to the engines smiling at him.

"Kaylee, you have, grease on your . . . your face." Simon stammered and Wash raised his hands, silently mouthing, "What did I tell you!" She giggled again and Simon looked somewhat startled, following Kaylees eyes to the spot at which she was repetitively looking.

Wash motioned Kaylee towards Simon, but deep down she didn't want to leave him, she was afraid if she left now she would never see the pilot again, "Go on", he hissed, practically laughing, motioning her forward again.

"S . . . Simon, why don't we . . ."

"Eat?" Wash suggested hopefully.

"Eat!" Kaylee repeated, the hopefulness in her voice making Simon smile.

"All right," he told her, nodding slowly. "I came to talk, but ok, lets have a bite then."

Kaylee lit up like the engine she loved, glowing like a firefly in the night, she hooked her arm through Simons and led him off towards the kitchen. Wash waved as she went.

* * *

Zoë was glad to be out of the cockpit quickly, she didn't like to spend any more time there than necessary, there were too many memories, especially after coming from their bunk, then again, he was everywhere on this ship. Simon and Kaylee were in the kitchen, eating breakfast and laughing as Simon attempted to wipe the grease already smeared across Kaylees face and only succeeding in getting it on his washed and ironed clothes. They stopped talking as Zoë entered the room and Kaylee smiled up at her.

"Want some breakfast Zoë?" she asked, making to stand up but Zoë motioned her back into her seat with a shake of her head.

"Job afoot Kaylee, gotta get ready."

Kaylee nodded and went back to chattering with Simon

"Did she say a job? We have not had one of those in quite awhile have we?"

"Don't think I don't know it, I've been waiting for my compression coil for months, it's about time we get a touch more spending."

Continuing towards the cargo bay Zoë nearly ran straight into River coming around a corner much too silently for Zoë's taste. The girl practically slid past Zoë, staring intently at something directly in front of her, but she stopped, seeing Zoë for the first time it seemed, and she frowned.

"What are you doing River?" Zoë asked softly, trying to keep her hands away from her gun. it wasn't that she didn't trust the girl, or that she didn't like her, she even felt a bit maternal for her, it was just at times like these, when she was creeping around it made Zoë a touch nervous.

"He's taking me somewhere, told me to follow him." River told her flatly, "but he couldn't leave you without stopping."

Zoë, honestly enough, had no desire to know who 'he' was, it was too early in the morning and she was already too drained for this kind of talk.

"Alright River, go ahead then." She watched as the girl went back to following her invisible friend down the corridor. Shaking her head, Zoë continued on her way.

* * *

Wash was beckoning River forward with a mischievous grin on his face; he was wearing an outfit somehow resembling an army official of ancient earth and riding what appeared to be a small dinosaur. River had been not at all surprised to see him, and that seemed to have startled him more than being suddenly in the common area on the back of a prehistoric beast. She had asked him for a ride almost instantly, but he had smiled down at her and shook his head casually.

"Doesn't take well to strangers." he explained. This answer satisfied her, perfectly logical now that she thought of it, and she had begun to follow him.

What was interesting to her was that she could not read his thoughts. It had been a shock for her the moment he died, his thoughts so pleasant, suddenly frantic, but only for a moment before ceasing altogether to exist. Simon hadn't understood the face she had made. Hardest had been hearing Zoë's thoughts resounding in her head as she tried to comprehend, and Mal, more hurt than he knew, and then, reliving it again in the others. One person was not made to feel seven different ways to grieve. It was good to see him again.

"Where are we going?" she wondered, and he smiled down at her in that way that people smile when they want to be especially endearing.

"To my castle, Princess." He told her and she raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have a castle; we're on a space ship." She told him, putting her hands on her hips and rolling her eyes as she had seen Jayne do.

"I have a dinosaur don't I?"

"Well I suppose I can see your point." She watched him closely, absorbing the way he moved, the way he looked, the way his eyes stared fixedly in front of him while he guided the beast he rode as though it were the controls of the ship and he were just flying.

Half way towards the kitchen in the corridor they met Zoë, she looked tired and sad, her eyes darker than usual, set back out of the light where the world seemed less potent. She stared distrustfully down at River, the same way she looked at everyone else, and her fingers twitched towards her gun. River was going to keep walking but Wash had stopped his dinosaur, looking at Zoë as if the world were before him, vast and beautiful, the stars he knew and the nebulas he didn't. River wanted to see what he saw, so she looked. She was surprised it was just Zoë.

"What are you doing River?" _Where are you going looking so intently? What is so interesting? Why don't I see it? _

River continued to stare for a beat, wondering exactly what it was that Wash saw in her eyes that she didn't, a part of Zoë that even River could not see, maybe that part of her had died and only Wash could see it now because it was a memory, and so was he.

"Wash is here on a dinosaur and he's taking me with him to his castle, I think he must be a memory, a figment of my imagination spliced with the different ways that I came to perceive him, come here to help me discover a part of myself that I do not at the present moment understand. I'm following him to his 'castle' and I don't think he planned on seeing you here. Neither had I." Zoë only heard what she wanted from this, and River was surprised that that encompassed so little.

"Alright River, go ahead then." _Don't talk to me about him when it still hurts, I don't want to be a part of your delusional fantasies. _

Zoë dismissed her quickly and River left without another thought, she walked four steps before realizing that Wash was no longer there, like a puff of smoke he had vanished. River span around, searching for any sign of the dinosaur or its rider, but not even a footprint was left her. She was disappointed; she had been anticipating a castle.

* * *

Zoë left River with an ache starting in her head already. The headaches had been starting earlier and earlier everyday and River always seemed to be one of the greatest antagonists. It was probably the very idea that she could be reading your thoughts even as you thought them that set Zoë's brain to hurting. Of course, she hadn't asked for Simons assistance, not for something as small as a head ache, just didn't seem logical.

The cargo bay was empty of its usual racket, Jayne obviously not out of his bunk yet, and Zoë walked past his usual haunt, the exercise equipment, without a second glance. She would prep the suits before attempting to make contact with the resident alien life.

Hefting three of the heavy garments from their rack, she laid them out and began her inspection of the different equipment involved, always better safe than sorry, and better prepared than not. As she worked, she thought detachedly about the coming job. Standing on an uninhabited, unterriformed moon, incapable of supporting life of any kind, stuck to it with the barest amount of gravity, it just wasn't her idea of a desirable past time. Not that she had never done it before, many times in fact, but staring up when the vastness of space seemed a little more accessible still didn't appeal. Wash had always found that kind of thing exhilarating, one of the reasons he loved to fly. Staring out of the cockpit at constellations so close you can practically feel the heat, (Seemed just as cold to her as everything else) that was one of the things that made him so special. Looking down at the buttons to adjust the amount of gravity generated by the boots she was to wear, Zoë had a sudden urge to turn them off. Float into space; simply hang in the darkness moving slowly round and round, spinning, until she got close enough to a star to simply burn up in a puff of obscure gasses. On the other hand, maybe she would touch one after all, hold it in her hand, squeeze it and feel the heat in her palm until it seared and branded her flesh, leaving the mark that would last a lifetime. Dismissing her thoughts idly, Zoë finished her task. This was not the time for delusions; this was the time to be practical. She turned back to the kitchen.

* * *

Jayne carefully dusted down his favorite gun, Vera, feeling her curves beneath his hands and tenderly touching her in places he imagined made her uncomfortable. He scrubbed at the small spot near the trigger he could see blood had dried until she was spotless and gleaming in the light of the lamp. It was early in the morning yet. Jayne hadn't been sleeping as well as he was famous for. There had been times he had missed an entire battle just because he was a sound sleeper, able to detach himself from the world and feel nothing, think nothing.

"Not like that's much different from what you do in the day time." Wash interjected from where he sat, slumped back in Jayne's most comfy of chairs, his hair mussed up, wearing the flight suit with the hole in the chest, a dark bloody mass that Jayne tried not to look at. He had seen it before.

"Gorramit, why can't you leave me alone?" Jayne snapped back, annoyed and angry, he hadn't been that attached to the little man, why would he have been? All he ever got from Wash was sarcastic insult. He hadn't been getting much of that lately.

"It's not my fault; do you think I want to be here? You're the one who's thinking about me."

"That aint true!"

"Isn't it? Than what am I doing here? I'm still mystified that out of five million sperm you were the winner."

"How am I supposed to think of somthin else, you sitting there lookin at me . . . like . . . like that."

"Disdain Jayne, I believe it's called disdain." Wash started humming contentedly to himself and when Jayne recognized the tune, he rolled his eyes and went back to staring at Vera intently.

"You are a hero you know." Wash said suddenly, interrupting his own song, seemingly as startled at his words as Jayne was, who quite nearly dropped his gun.

"What?"

"Saved my life, by saving Zoë's."

Jayne stared dumbfounded into Wash's face, a look familiar with him.

"You saved her Jayne, pulled her behind the lines when she could have died. Thank you for that."

"My job," Jayne insisted, flabbergasted and confused, "Couldn't let her die like that."

"You could have, and you would have too, when we first met. But like it or not, you've become part of the family here, and though I hate to admit it, I never thought I would utter these words alive," he paused and smiled, "I'm proud of you. So is Mal."

Jayne sat aside Vera, mouth slightly agape, not quite believing what he was hearing, and not noticing that as they had spoken, Wash's body had become whole.

"I . . . I gotta go and work out some."

Wash raised an eyebrow and smiled, and as Jayne stood up to leave Wash stopped him with a word.

"Thanks for everything Jayne, I count you a friend."

* * *

Zoë bumped into Jayne on his way to the cargo bay and she motioned him to follow her to the kitchen, he hesitated, but complied. Kaylee and Simon were still sitting around flirting pleasantly when they appeared. Once again, Kaylee offering breakfast to them both, both declined. There were still nine chairs at table, and Zoë found the emptiness of two of them oppressive, something Jayne and her actually agreed upon. However, Kaylee and the captain had joined forces to insist that the chairs remain.

"So what is this job we're taking?" Simon asked

"Job?" Jayne was confused per usual.

"There's a crate, possibly marked, been dumped on an unteriformed moon not far, should be near time now, our job to pick it up and transport it to an outer planet 'few sectors off. So far things are soundin easy, which probably means they're not."

"Perfect." Simon sounded exasperated and Kaylee took it upon himself to encourage him to see the bright side of things.

"You know the captain and Zoë,"

"And Jayne." Jayne interjected.

"Are perfectly able to take care of anything may happen."

"She's right doctor." Zoë echoed, "Shouldn't be a problem. Jayne, captain and me will go to the moon surface, retrieve the crates, and then we'll take off. May need your sister to help with the flyin."

"I'll send her to you."

The captains voice split the conversation from the ships com system. "You guys ready for landing? We'll be putting down and it will probably be bumpy."

Simon stood, "I'll get River."

Zoë nodded and quickly scanned the room, "Anyone seen 'Nara?"

* * *

Inara sat with her hands crossed in her lap; sitting on her bed in the shuttle she called her home. Silks hung delicately draping the control panels and walls. Incense burned steadily, sending up an aroma resembling something botanical, and the woman herself, beautiful, body draped in silk lace and gauze. She stared fixedly across from her, her eyes round and wide with something near to fear.

"I'm just your imagination Inara, nothing to fear." Wash sat across from her in a stiff backed chair, his hair smoothed back with hair wax, wearing a black suit and a tremendously hideous orange tie with a blue Hawaiian motif.

"My imagination is not usually this . . . potent." She managed, not sure what to think. Her spectral figure looked at himself and grinned at her.

"I had no idea you thought of me like this! No idea!"

"You were always ... gentlemanly."

Wash grinned lopsided, settling deeper into the chair, "Well I always do try."

A couple moments passed, the room was penetrated by a thick silence, Inara could feel it like a wisp of smoke from a candle, curling around her and leaving her short of breath. Wash stared through her, into her, around her and at her. It was all she could do to remain calm. She clasped her hands.

"You're a big girl 'Nara. You can take care of yourself. But sometimes you have to look in order to see."

"I don't understand."

"This is going to hurt."

"What?"

"I'm going to tell you the hardest part about dieing is living it. It took seventeen hours, count 'em, seventeen, just ask my mother, seventeen hours to bring me into the world and all of fifteen seconds to take me out of it." He snapped his fingers, "like that. Man has never figured how to create life, and yet it has five thousand ways to end it. How fair is that? The hardest part was leaving Zoë. I have no illusions about it, things have been hard on her, she sees me you know, in everything, and she doesn't know how to handle it. The hardest part is thinking about the things we could have done, settled down, built a family, and had babies' lots of tiny babies with ivory skin and freckles. We barely had a chance to live before it was all ended. I was so afraid 'Nara, I was so afraid to bring a little person into a world where I wasn't sure if their mamma would survive the next shoot out. Where they know how to use a gun before a pencil, where they know death before they know life. I was so afraid and I let it stop me from fulfilling my life with Zoë, it left our relationship so full and yet partially empty. And it's my fault she suffers like she does."

"Why are you telling me these things, are not my sorrows already enough?"

"I'm not here to make you cry 'Nara." Wash leaned forward in the chair, putting his hands on his knees and leaning so close she imagined she could feel his breath on her face. A piece of his slicked hair fell forwards into his eyes. "I'm here to make you think. No more, second-guessing Inara, no more maybe, later, and perhaps. Stop second-guessing your heart."

"My heart tells me that one of my good friends has died and now I am imagining him here in my shuttle and he is telling me things that are making it harder to keep from crying. Things are so empty without you."

He smiled, "Don't worry about me, I'm here to make sure that you're happy before I high tail it into the beyond, you follow. Once your imagination has given you proper closure, you can move on and go back to living your life. Sound good?"

"I don't want to forget."

"You don't have to; you just have to look ahead now, dong ma? Follow your heart. You know what you want, now go on and get it."

Inara let herself smile for him, gracefully and thoughtfully, mulling over her thoughts carefully.

"Figment of my imagination?" she wondered, Wash smiled and leaned backwards, getting comfortable once more.

"Indeed. Think of me as the ghost of Christmas past." Inara raised her eyebrows.

"So there will be two more of you before midnight?"

Wash blinked back at her, "Lets hope the rest of me doesn't look like this."

"And you're teaching me how to love again?"

"Something like that."

Suddenly the whole ship began to shake violently, Inara scrambling to keep the incense righted and the breakables from smashing to the floor of the shuttle.

"Feels like we've landed . . ." she began but when she turned her face back to Wash she was surprised to find him disappeared. The chair he had occupied lying on its side.

* * *

The crate was exactly where they had said it would be. It weighed a surprising amount once inside the ship and after the airlock was sealed and decompressed.

They all three removed the suits and replaced them on the rack before further inspecting the crate. It was sizable, metal, and sealed in three places.

"Let's see what's in this thing."

"Deal never mentioned opening." Zoë reminded him but the captain shook his head, since the botched train deal he had been rather insistent on the opening of all packages brought on board.

Jayne waisted no time in breaking the locks, wrenching the lid from the crate and peering inside. There was a moments pause.

"Mal?"

"Yes Jayne."

"Do those look like rocks . . . to you?"

"I would say so Jayne."

The three of them continued to peer at the stones, each one no bigger than a mans fist, dirty and jagged. Mal picked one up and hefted it up and down experimentally before dropping it back into the crate.

"Yep. Rocks."

"Why in the blazes would we be transporting rocks?" Jayne exclaimed, digging through the crate looking for something that may be hidden at the bottom, his search came back futile.

"Maybe diamonds?" Zoë suggested helpfully.

"Don't look like no diamonds to me."

"Aren't diamonds supposed to be shiny?"

"Yes Jayne."

They continued to stare down at the rocks, mulling over all the options available to them.

"A trap, do you think sir?"

Mal nodded solemnly, "Perhaps so."

"What do we do?"

Mal replaced the lid of the crate and stood back a stretch, brushing off his hands. "We do the job, we get paid. Only thing to do."

Zoë nodded, Jayne spat and Mal pushed the crate into one of the hidden compartments of Serenity's cargo hold.

* * *

Well that's part one of two, hope you enjoyed it, we have the continuation of this particular job, and three closure spots (Simon, Mal, and Zoë) to look forward to. Hope you stick around!

_Simple Enigma _


	2. Rocks And Water

"Rocks?" Simon echoed doubtfully, more than slightly confused.

"Big like, but just normal rocks mostly."

"Well I guess there won't be a problem then." Kaylee interjected hopefully. Mal looked from Zoë to his engineer.

"Right Kaylee, probably nothing."

Kaylee smiled from face to face, but no one returned her sentiment and her smile faded.

"You think it's a trap Cap'n?"

"Not sure Kaylee, just not sure."

"How long till we get there?" Inara asked, sitting across from Mal and staring at him with bright hopeful eyes.

"We should come into orbit in 'bout three hours, they'll contact us from there. Till then we prepare for the worst. Kaylee, get things ready for some hasty maneuvers. Simon, bring River up to the bridge, we all here know I'm no pilot, I'll be needin' some help and she seems to show some aptitude. Zoë, Jayne, get things ready for an encounter, strap things down and such."

"We're on it Sir." Zoëturned to leave but Mal caught her arm.

"Hold a sec, I want to talk to you." Mal turned back to his crew and waited until all five had communicated their compliance. When he was properly satisfied he turned back to Zoë and motioned her to follow him back towards the cockpit. Both remained silent until they were inside and the doors were closed behind them.

"What is it Sir?" Zoë was as complacent as ever, her hands clasped behind her back, head high, her dark stoic gaze bearing quickly down on Mal.

"I was just wondering if you were going to talk to Simon."

"Excuse me Sir?"

"You haven't been sleeping, or eating for that matter. I want you to do that. Talk to Simon, get some help with this."

"Sir, if you don't mind me sayin it, you're in the same boat as me, and don't think I haven't noticed it."

Mal shifted uncomfortably, what she said was true enough, though he had been trying. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the number of bodies piling up that had his name connected to them. What kind of a leader was he that people under his command kept being killed? It was hard to sleep without being haunted by them. Wash was only the latest victim of Malcolm Reynolds leadership skills. Just happened to be the person to tip the scales.

"I just don't want my second in command dropping on me, dong ma?" Mal was right ready to end the uncomfortable conversation with that, but Zoë stepped forward, bearing down on him with the look on her face reserved for those she was about to terrorize, maim, or kill, occasionally all three. Mal kept his ground.

"Captain, we've got us a job to look to. If I decide that I need to seek help sleeping, I'll do that. But not before. meanwhile I suggest you put it out of your mind and do the same." she paused and raised her eyebrow. "Dong ma?" With that she turned and left, leaving Mal once again alone in the cockpit with nothing but the stars and plastic dinosaurs as friends. He picked up a palm tree and looked carefully at it, all the emotions bubbling up inside him until he felt he could no longer contain them. Angrily he threw the toy against the wall, however the motion did nothing to alleviate his frustration and for a long painful moment, he stared at it lying there before breaking down and replacing it gently where it belonged.

* * *

Zoë fully intended to head to the cargo bay, unhappy with how she had spoken to the captain but not sure how to deal with it. Perhaps she would take a leaf from the book of Jayne and work out before they arrived at their destination. She passed River who looked up to her with wide knowing eyes and a quivering lip. Just up the hall from the cargo bay, Zoë suddenly found herself feeling dizzy and was forced to stop and lean against the wall. Close to the engine room here, she could hear Kaylee humming while she worked; not wanting to disturb her Zoë decided that perhaps it would be best to give Simon a visit after all.

The doctor was busying himself in the infirmary and when he heard footsteps behind him he didn't even bother turning,

"River, you should be with the captain now."

"I believe she is." Zoë responded quietly, and Simon spun around surprised. He smiled a little and set down whatever it was he was tinkering with.

"Zoë, to what do I owe this visit?"

"I was just feeling a little," she paused and took a deep breath, considering turning on her heals and leaving before she finished her sentence, but the hollow ache in her head was making no move towards abating and she opted for getting this over with promptly. "dizzy." she finished and Simon motioned her to sit, his concern evident.

"How have you been sleeping?" he asked, looking her in the eyes, she held his stare for a moment before sighing and looking away. Simon didn't need the words to tell him her answer. He bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably, working up the courage to ask her.

"Have you considered that you might be . . . pregnant." he managed finally and Zoë shook her head, still not looking at him, not when the grief would be so visible in her eyes.

"Don't you think I would have checked that?" She whispered and Simon let his face fall, things with Zoë were complicated for the entire crew. No one sure how to react to anything she said or did, how to respond to her, when to look at her and when to look away.

"I haven't seen you at table lately, have you been eating?"

"Here and there, when I got time."

Simon nodded and went to one of his cabinets, bringing back a small cylinder and removing two small circular blue pills.

"First thing, go down to the mess and eat yourself a good meal, if you don't, I'll know, and I'll sick Kaylee on you. Tonight before you sleep, take these." he handed her the pills. "They should help considerably."

"Thanks doc." Zoë pocketed the pills and turned to leave.

"And Zoë," Simon called after her, she turned and their eyes met, both seeing the pain in each other. "I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I really am. We all feel Wash's absence more than can be expressed."

Zoë managed a small smile for him, "Thanks again doc." Then she had disappeared around the door.

"That was right good of you." Wash said quietly. Simon turned and somehow wasn't all together surprised to see him laying there on the table. The pilot's arms were crossed over his chest and his skin was clammy and blue. He wore his usual Hawaiian inspired garb, but there was no joy in his face, the man was dead and Simon had no illusions about it. The body suddenly turned its head and Wash looked into Simons eyes, he seemed to be regaining some color, and he moved his arms off his chest and laid them by his sides.

"No, you can't just come alive again, not after it's taken so long to burry you." Simon hissed. Turning away and trying to distract himself.

"Come on Simon, you of all people should know that the past, and the pain doesn't stay buried."

Simon kept his back turned, but he discontinued his fiddling and slumped against the countertop. "I should be able to block you out, why cant I block you out?" he whined and in the end, he turned to face his visitor. Wash was sitting up now, his feet dangling over the side of the operating table, staring down at his chest and unbuttoning his shirt so that he could properly expose his wound, as though he had come in for a checkup. He poked and prodded at the hole in his body and started whistling as he did it.

"Will you stop that!" Simon exclaimed, making to intervene but changing his mind and turning away again. Wash looked up and stopped whistling.

"You mean that?"

"No! I mean . . . stop . . . touching it!"

Wash looked down at his wound again and shrugged, re-buttoning his shirt and starting to whistle again as he swung his legs. "I just thought you would want to see it is all. Seeing as you're the doctor. Usually doctors ask, "Where does it hurt?" and as a patient, it's my job to show you. That's all."

"Yes well it's a little late for that don't you think."

"Just 'cause the heart stops beating doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." Wash intoned quietly and Simon turned to face him again.

"I can't make your heart stop hurting any more than I can mine." He whispered back emotion choking his voice. "You, Book, my home and my family, I've lost too much here, I've lost too much."

Wash tilted his head and stopped his legs from swinging. "But look at what you've gained Simon." He smiled lopsided, leaning back and forth and making the table wiggle. "You've gained a family, gained a home, and gained your sister I might add. You've set yourself up for a lot of happy memories here, you just have to be willing to make them."

Simon shook his head, "And a lot of pain." He turned back to the cabinets and missed Wash rolling his eyes.

"What kind of way to think is that? You're lucky you have Kaylee to show you the best parts of life."

"Like Zoë had you." Simon whispered, clutching the counter and closing his eyes.

"Yes." He heard Wash reply, "Like Zoë had me. And like you, she'll never regret it."

"Not even when she cant sleep, cant eat, cant think for the pain it causes?"

"Builds character you know. Besides, I don't mean to be a footnote, its right and proper for her to grieve, soon she'll find a way to say good bye and things will get better. And I say that without being bitter." he grinned and started swinging his feet again. "I'll take good care of her until then, which brings me back to what I was saying before. Thank you Simon for taking care of my family, hell, thank you for being part of my family, but mostly thanks for help keeping this boat in the sky." He patted the table he sat on affectionately. "She's all that's left of me now. This may be where I died," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the air in the infirmary, exhaling slow and sweet. "But this is where I lived."

Simon softened visibly, taking a good look around the infirmary and feeling the pulsing of the engine through his hand on the wall. Serenity was more than a home.

"Maybe I will take a look at that for you." He said quietly, motioning lightly towards Wash's chest. The deceased pilots face brightened and he unbuttoned his shirt again, lying back on the table.

Simon had only briefly seen Wash's wound before, when they had removed his body from the cockpit and brought it here to the infirmary, getting ready to transport it to Haven to be buried. Simon, injured in the battle, had lain across from it during its brief rest here, and he had had a good amount of time to cry and to dream. Somehow, this didn't feel much different.

The wound went straight through the slight mans body, a dark bloody hollow directly through the chest cavity. Wash had died almost instantly. Yet this was different, Wash's heart was intact within the cavity, visible through the gaping entry wound. As Simon touched it with his slender surgeon's fingers, it began to beat steadily. He drew back his hand involuntarily as he watched the wound appear to heal itself. Every damaged rib, vein and nerve became whole and the wound itself began to close until not even a scar was left to see. Wash smiled up at Simon, his eyes bright with the light they had embodied in life.

"This," he stated very firmly, "is how you will remember me."

And the pilot was gone.

* * *

Zoë sat in the kitchen by herself, fiddling with a half eaten potato Kaylee had managed to find her, left over from when they were last planet side. She picked irritably at it, trying to distinguish if it was in fact mold growing on the bottom or not. In the end it was just some kind of foreign goop, but since this did nothing to increase her appetite, she decided she was finished eating for the moment, and pushed away her plate, distractedly spearing the tabletop with her fork.

"Zoë, could you come to the bridge please?" It was Mal on the intercom. Zoë estimated she had been fiddling with the potato for at least an hour so it was quite possible that they had arrived at their destination. Assuming the Captain was no longer angry with her, she suspected he needed her help with something rather than another go at her sleeping habits. Dumping the plate in the sink as she passed, Zoë hurried to her Captains side.

The picture waiting her was not nearly as pleasant as she had imagined it would be. Moreover, she hadn't really imagined it that pleasant in the first place.

They had indeed reached the planet they had been instructed to, but between Serenity and the small blue green orb there stood what appeared to be an entire Alliance fleet. She stared, slightly agape.

"I think they want their rocks back." River intoned quietly from where she squatted in the co-pilots chair. Mal looked from River to Zoë and then out the window again frantically.

"A Judas Kiss Sir?" Zoë suggested, referring to the cargo they had taken aboard. Mal shook his head, then he nodded it, and then he shook it again.

"I sealed those rocks in the cargo hold didn't I?"

"Yes Sir."

"And the Tams aren't all wanted and such now are they?"

"No Sir."

Mal nodded again, sitting back in the chair and scratching his chin as he thought about the activities of the alliance. "Why are they here?" he whispered to himself.

"We'd best hail them Sir. They've already got us on their screens, too late to run."

"Never too late to run." Mal corrected. "Let's get our stories straight, why are we here?"  
"To smuggle rocks." River told him helpfully.

"Not helping little albatross. We're visiting . . . help me Zoë."

"We're here to conduct business Sir, same as always."

"Right, right, best to keep the truth in there somehow." He shifted uncomfortably and hailed the fleet.

"This is Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the cargo ship Serenity, requesting permission to pass through to Polaris." The silence that followed seemed to pass through the enormity of space, unbearably slowly, before the com crackled into life and the small voice of a young officer fizzed through the speakers.

"Captain Reynolds, you're free to pass."

Mal let out a long breath full of tension, "Thank you." he managed into the com, "Now let's get out of here, double time."

They passed like a speck of dust through the cloud of alliance ships into the empty space beyond. Polaris sparkled like a blue gem in the dark, most of the surface consisting of oceans and seas, the land making up a very small percentage of the planet. However, what land there was populated and industrialized to the max. The capital, 'North City' was one of the biggest cities on any of the border planets.

Serenity had not been in orbit long before they were hailed as had been promised by the clients.

"Captain Reynolds I presume," the man on the view screen was of a slight build, his walrus mustache seeming to engulf his pointed features, as he spoke the thing bobbed along with the words. His small blue eyes peered out from beneath equally large eyebrows, they folded together in the middle of his forehead and when Mal didn't respond right away, one of them shot upwards in a flurry of unexpected motion.

"Yes," Mal answered, startled by the moving creatures. "I'm Malcolm Reynolds."

"Good. I trust you had no trouble passing the alliance?"

"No trouble. Oddly enough . . ."

"They aren't here for you Captain Reynolds. You have my crate?"

"Indeed I do."

The man pursed his lips under the mustache and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You know the contents?" Mal shifted uncomfortably, but the man interrupted him before he could confess. "Let us hope for your sake that if you do," the creatures lifted, "You quickly forget."

"Forget what?" Mal retorted quickly, inciting a laugh from Mr. Smith, his teeth appearing beneath the mustache, bright white and shiny.

"Good man. I'm sending you the co-ordinates for the drop off. I'll be waiting."

"And payment?" Mal inserted, before the other could close the dealings.

"You will get your money Captain, not to worry." The screen went black.

"River, you've got the co-ordinates?"

"Yes Captain Reynolds." River began to whistle as she imputed the specified numbers.

"Zoë, you, me and River go to the surface."

"River sir?"

Mal glanced over at the girl as she carefully glided the ship towards the planet. "Something aint right, we may need her with us."

Zoë nodded, taking her leave and making her way to their bunk to arm herself. Wash was waiting for her, as he did every day.

He stood in the corner, fiddling distractedly with the drawstrings of his sweat pants. He smiled when he saw her and made to speak, but Zoë silenced him with a look. She knew that if he got talking again there would be no leaving the room for hours. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? All he did these days was remind her of what she had lost. Quickly strapping her sawed off to her side, she exited the bunk without a second glance towards her husband. She was certain he would be there when she got back.

* * *

"Where is he?" Mal whispered for the third time. River looked up shortly then went back to drawing pictures in the dirt. Zoë stood by, clutching her gun and looking from shadow to shadow.

The three of them stood at the drop of point some thirty miles out of North City in the middle of the planets only preserved planetary phenomenon. A dessert. Mr. Smith was now officially a half an hour late.

"Where did the ocean go, where did the ocean go" River said quietly in a singsong voice, humming to herself.

"Shhh." Zoë held up a hand and immediately her companions hushed. Out of the shadow of what appeared to be a sand dune four figures began to materialize, all three broad shouldered and heavy set.

"Run." River whispered. "That's what he did."

Mal didn't seem to hear her, or if he did, his only response was to draw his weapon and hold it cocked and ready for action. As the dark forms began to draw nearer, Mal called out to them.

"Mr. Smith?"

"Mr. Smith was not able to make it I'm afraid."

The leader of the group was a muscular middle-aged man with short black hair and a very clean-shaven face. Mal broke eye contact with the man just long enough to glance at Zoë, his orders efficiently conveyed through that ten second bit of nonverbal communication. Zoë moved in front of River who had risen to her feet and looked about as capable to handle herself as the next seventeen-year-old girl. She clutched at Zoë's shirt frantically, whispering repeatedly, "Not rocks, not water, not rocks, not water!"

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds?" The man asked, placing his hand strategically close to the pistol hanging from his belt.

"Who's asking?"

"Your new client, Mr. Smith had an unfortunate encounter with my friend here." he motioned to one of the burly men standing next to him, indicating the long knife still dripping blood that hung from the mans side.

"So, once again, Captain Malcolm Reynolds?"

"I am."

"Where is the crate Captain?"

"Where is my money?"

The man smiled slightly and shook his head. "You are in no position to bargain Captain, you have come here with a woman and a child, and I have come with three specially trained killers. You have come here with no knowledge at all of what you're carrying, and I have just become your boss. It seems to me that it is I who is in charge, no?"

Mal swallowed and smiled back, making a fast decision and replacing his weapon in its holster. "I suppose your right." He allowed, "And I would be happy to show you where your crate is, if only you would pass me my share of the coin, whatever you think is fair."

"Good choice Captain." The man tossed Mal a depressingly light sack of coin; he glanced inside and felt a knot of anger twist his stomach. There was obviously less than half of the promised amount in the bag.

"A problem Captain?"

Mal thought quickly, it hadn't been a difficult job, hadn't taken them too far out of their way, it was take this money, or walk out with possible wounds and less payment. "No problem." Mal smiled again, glancing at Zoë and River, both looking to him for guidance. "I'm going to give you the co-ordinates of the crate, dong ma?" Pulling a piece of paper out of his coat Mal took a step forward and held it out cautiously towards the other man.

It took all of fifteen seconds for the man with the knife to rush forward, grabbing Mals arm with one hand and inserting the knife into his gut with the other. Captain Malcolm Reynolds crumpled into a heap.

* * *

Well this was supposed to be two parts, so that the 'closure spots' would be more evenly spaced but I just had to add a plot in there, and you know what plots can be like. I meant to have the job finished quick and easy but then I couldn't figure out what they would be transporting that would be interesting and so I was like, rocks! And then I couldn't figure out how that would be at all relevant without some kind of story attached to it. Sorry folks! Looks like this is going to be a three parter. Next chapter, Mal and Zoë finally get closure, and Zoë and River kick some serious butt, almost done already so it wont be long. Review, and stay tuned! xoxoxoxo

PS. thanx for the lovely reviews for the first part, its really encouraging to read!

11


	3. Goodbye, and move on

There were noises coming from all sides, helping to build the hysteria that seemed to be settling in. His body had absorbed a good amount of shock from the blow and it was all he could do to stay conscious as he lay in the sand, feeling it squish and squirm beneath his body as he moved with the ebb and flow of the pain. Distantly he could hear gunshots and almost from an infinite distance the sound of screaming, the throb in his skull making it hard to distinguish the words, rocks, he heard, and fire.

Suddenly there was a voice very close to his ear and warm breathing.

"Mal, what are you doing?" Wash was leaning over him, hands on his knees, wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt tucked into the waistband of his flight suit. The brilliance of the color pained the eyes.

"Bleeding I believe."

"That doesn't seem like a very good plan to me."

"Well none of mine really are."

Wash knelt down and took Mal's hand, "put this here," he commanded, pressing their hands into the circle of blood slowly widening across Mal's stomach. "How's that for a plan."

"Better." Mal grunted.

"Ok, time to get up now."

There was more gunfire and Mal could distantly hear someone calling his name. "Wash .. ." he started, clutching feebly at his pilots arm, afraid for all he was worth that this would be it, this would be his last chance.

"No time to talk, its time for you to take care of Zoë, while I can't."

"Wash . . .I'm sorry."

"No Mal, not yet, its time for some action." The pilot placed Mal's weapon in his hand, even as the captain had some sensation of himself un-holstering it.

"Wash . . ." he tried again but his pilot persisted, getting to his feet and staring down at Mal from what seemed a great height.

"No Mal! Get up!"

"So sorry."

"Get up!" He held out his hand, face stony and hard to read. Had Mal ever seen him wear that expression in life? For a moment Mal was certain that this wasn't real, none of it, he was loosing blood, going insane, seeing things, all of them or only one. If he accepted that hand, he would never have the support he needed to make it to his feet. However, he had never doubted Wash's hands before.

"Come on Mal, time to live again."

Mal clasped the pilots hand and lurched to his feet, gun blazing, even as a brilliant flash of light and sound lit the desert landscape.

* * *

Zoë glanced frantically in the direction of her captain; they were a long ways off now, the enemy had pushed them back until they had gained the crate, Zoë could only hope Mal was alive, her duty falling now to River and herself. 

"The Rocks need fire to make them come alive!" River told her, staring with her big brown eyes into Zoë's. A gunshot hit the sand not a foot away and Zoë shielded her charge as the burning crystals showered them like rain. When hadRiver started to make sense? If Zoë'sgut was leading her in the right direction, then action must be taken. She looked over the rise in the sand at their antagonists. They were dragging the goods back towards the captain, firing shots over their shoulders as they went, not wholly certain of the threat that loomed behind them. Zoë motioned River forwards and the two of them crept slowly back the way they had come.

"If I hit them right, they'll light?"

"Sand burns, rocks burn brighter." River intoned and Zoë took that as a yes.

She could see Malcolm now, writhing where they had left him, he made no move to stand. She watched him, anxiously, and it was then, in the last dieing light of the sun, she saw the words on his lips.

"Wash . . ." In a moment of darkness, Zoë seemed to loose all of her bearings. Nothing made sense, there was no up, nor down, and all she could see was the name on her captain's lips.

Wash.

Was he standing there now? If he was Zoë couldn't see him. Did that mean Mal was dieing? For the longest time she had believed only she could see him, because she was the only one still looking for him. Still believing he would come around that corner, walk through that door, sleep in that position and say those words. She had ignored him for months;had stared straight ahead when she knew he was there. She had been so afraid to face him because she knew that if she did . . . did Mal see him too? Did he have the same fears as she did? The same guilt? Was it possible to say his name without the word fading away just as his warmth?

Suddenly Mal was rising to his feet, reaching forwards and grasping at theair he lurched up with his gun ready just as the enemy pointed his.

If Mal had not fired in that instant, the bullet would have pierced Zoë's heart. She knew it, she saw it, but it didn't seem real. Mal's bullet hit the crony in the back, he was knocked forward by the force of it, his gun jarred, and the bullet from his gun lodged itself in Zoë's arm, throwing her backwards and sending her into the sand.

It was River that recovered Zoë's gun and fired repeatedly at the crate, one bullet scratching against its surface working like a flint and tinder and within moments, blowing the whole thing apart.

* * *

Simon made a disgruntled clicking noise with his tongue as he worked. Sewing up Mal's stomach wound with the patient diligence only a surgeon could posses. Zoë sat on the adjacent table nursing a bullet wound to her arm, circling in and out of consciousness with a mixture of blood loss and bad sleeping habits. River had been the only one to make it out of the battle relatively unscathed, lucky for Mal, if things had gone any more south Simon would have personally put the bullet to his head, and Mal didn't need that kind of aggravation. 

"My insides rearranged Doctor?" he asked when Simon seemed to be most distracted, looking from Zoë to his stitching. Simon nodded only, refusing to speak to his captain after the danger River had been subjected to once again. When the stitches were finished with, Mal tried once more.

"I gonna live?"

"Unfortunately." Simon allowed grudgingly.

"Well, thanks for not killing me then."

Simon seemed to soften at some far away memory and he smiled a little. "I have to do my part, keeping this ship together. What with the memories she holds." Mal was a little taken aback by this show of affection towards the ship and he raised an eyebrow, but by then Simon had already turned to Zoë, who was miraculously still conscious and making her usual brave show of it.

"So what exactly happened out there once I was down?" Mal asked her, trying to be as distracting as he could while Simon did his work.

"Turns out those rocks were made of some kind of explosive, those _bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro _brought you down and forced River and I back all the way past the sand dunes until they got the crate. I was calling for you but you weren't moving and I feared the worst," she paused and exhaled as Simon retrieved the bullet. Once it was out, she shook her head a little and continued, "Anyways, River kept sayin, rocks need fire, rocks need fire, until she made me oblige, and she and I managed to light that _fei-oo_. Well it lit all right and blew those bastards off the sand. Kaylee took a wave while we were gone, turns out the alliance were looking for a terrorist organization making their base here, and looking to attain some explosives. Best I figure, we got conned sir."

"That explains a lot." Mal breathed, leaning his head back and looking up at the ceiling placidly. He heard Zoë swear softly as Simon patched her up, but not long after she appeared in his line of sight with another one of her stony expressions.

"Goodnight Captain." She said softly, "Saved my life today." She squeezed his hand before disappearing again. He could hear her talking to Simon about sleeping pills and needing a good amount of rest, surprising enough, she didn't argue about it with him. After that, there was silence, the swish and click of the door, and then Simon appeared above him where Zoë had been.

"I'm going to put you out to ensure you rest." He told him, insighting a groan from his patient.

"Come on Doc, I can sleep on my own accord."

Simon shook his head and retrieved some medication, he injected it without too much protest into Mal's neck and the captain began to drift off once more.

"You think my first officer's okay?" he asked groggily before the medicine could take hold.

"She's torn up plenty," Simon's voice began to fade quickly beyond Mal's consciousness.

* * *

Zoë was Serenity and she had a hole in her cockpit. A large gaping hole through her chest and into her frail beating heart. Mal tried to patch it up best he knew how, with nails and wood, tape and plastic, metal and fire. He tried all he knew but the hole would never close up and he was left with that dark feeling in his stomach. Zoë stared at him with her large square glass eyes, and said nothing. Her pulse fading until it could barely be felt through the pounding of the engine. Serenity wouldn't fly the same these days, she refused to respond to his whims, wouldn't be controlled by another pilot. She grieved, she had not forgotten. She missed with a passion that burned like the light of the firefly, she missed the way her husband would hold her and caress her and make her beautiful. Missed how she felt when she flew with him, missed the feel of him in her chair. Mal sat different than he had, too rough, too hard where he had been soft. It was as though she would put up with Mal, or anyone else, only as long as she needed to, waiting for him to come back to her, and yet certain he never would. She had been with him longer than the others, had a chance to absorb his absence, get used to the hole in her. 

Mal was standing in her cockpit. Broken dinosaurs scattered across the floor, not belonging. They represented something far too innocent to belong in this world any longer. Mal picked one up and held it long and tenderly.

"I don't understand why you keep them there anyway." Wash again, as he had been during the battle, softer, but the same. Wash and yet not Wash, pieces of him different where Mal remembered him wrong. He seemed to sense Mal's thoughts and he smiled.

"My hair is red, I swear it."

"Blonde."

"Red."

"Reddish blonde."

The pilot shrugged, defeated and collapsed in his chair, Zoë coming alive beneath him. Her body curving to fit his, her dark arms wrapping themselves around him and quivering at his touch. Every part of her sang as Wash took the wheel, caressing the control panel with his left hand as he guided the ship with his right, her movements fluid and beautiful. He smiled up at Mal with that innocent goofy smile, and the knot twisted in the captains gut, more painful than the knife.

"Mal," Wash's face had turned soft again, sad and knowledgeable. Two things that more often than not coincide. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Inara is waiting for you." Wash intoned, as though he was giving Mal a very valuable piece of information that had never crossed his mind. Well it never really had.

"What do you mean?"

"She's waiting for you Mal."

"hmm?"

Wash rolled his eyes and caressed his ship wife once more. "You need to learn how to let it go Mal, let it go so that you have more room inside where she can make her home."

"I aint got nothing left to give anybody." Mal choked.

"You've got more than you think, and that's just enough." The pilot began to hum softly to himself and Mal wondered if he hummed that song during lovemaking. It was simple enough, with a pulsing motion similar to the waves of the sea.

"Space got waves too you know." Wash offered quietly and Mal sunk into the co-pilots chair, listening. "The same kind of waves you get while you're at sea. At least, its how I imagine them to be, never was in a boat back on my home planet, never got a chance, boats kinda became obsolete what with the fancy technology popping up. But I imagine they feel like this." he shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair, "So calm, so steady, and then without warning, without pause, a shift, its slight, its small, but you can feel it once you know what your looking for. Calm, calm, and then, there! feel it? A lurch, a breaking of the rhythm. But before you can really put your thumb on it its calm and peaceful again."

"I can feel it." Mal allowed, his eyes fixed on his pilot as he rocked with the emotion of the ship. Suddenly Wash returned his attention to his captain and he smiled again.

"Let it go Mal, all of it. If I had known the day you hired me where this boat would take me, I still would have jumped onto your roster. I met my wife here Mal, not to mention had some of the best sex in the verse."

Mal laughed, "Best in the verse?"

"Have you ever been with a warrior woman?"

Things were quiet for a moment before Mal decided that since this was a dream anyways he might as well get his thoughts in the open.

"It's just that, you and Kaylee, you two didn't sign on to get shot at, or tortured, or any of that. Jayne or even Zoë I would understand, but you were no ones responsibility but mine."

"Like those men in your platoon?" Wash asked quietly and Mal closed his eyes.

"Every last one of them."

"We follow you Mal, because we trust you, but don't ever think we follow you blind. Every one of us knows exactly what we're getting ourselves into, that goes for every man who joined the army as well, me, Book, even Kaylee. We all know that this is a dangerous 'verse. Zoë and I, we would never blame you. So why blame yourself?"

Mal closed his eyes again and leaned back, experiencing for himself the slow ebb of the tide as it came in and out, moving the ship back and forth with that strange calm rhythm.

"Wash?"

"Yes Mal. This is the time to say it."

Mal was going to say that he was sorry, that he had never meant for any of this to happen, that he should have forced Wash to get off the boat when he married Zoë, should have let them build a life together, that he should have done something, anything. But for the first time in a long time he was granted by some miracle an inner calm. Whether it was Serenity herself, or Wash that leant it to him, he was able to see from an outside point of view. Just for a split second, but just long enough.

"Wash." he managed, "Goodbye."

* * *

On her way to her bunk, Zoë passed the engine room where Kaylee could still be heard tinkering. When the engineer heard Zoë in the hall, her tinkering stopped and her friendly round face appeared in the doorway. She smiled and rushed in for an embrace, careful of Zoë's arm. 

"Thank God you're alright! And the Cap'n?"

"He'll survive." Zoë told her, patting Kaylee gently with her good hand.

"I was afraid to sleep until I knew, 'Nara's waiting in the kitchen I think."

"Well you can sleep now."

"You too I hope, get some rest." Kaylee clucked like a mother hen and Zoë nearly laughed with the absurdity of it. When had Kaylee begun to mother them all?

"I will." Zoë told her softly, but Kaylee pushed the subject further.

"Simon said he gave you something to help. . ."

"Doctor patient confidentiality." Came a singsong voice from around the corner, and River appeared. "Simon shouldn't be telling you anything," She scolded, "even if you make him want to talk. He already has a castle."

As quickly as she came, she left again, round the corner in the direction of her quarters. Kaylee blushed and turned back to Zoë.

"He did though?"

Zoë couldn't help but keep the smile from her lips, she remembered too fondly how insecure she had been during the time Wash and she had danced around each other in that strange courtship dance.

"He did. I'm off to take advantage of it right now." Zoë sounded strangely soft to her own ears, blood loss, she deemed it, but Kaylee always made her feel tender, especially while she was acting like a lovesick school girl. Had Zoë ever acted like that? Perhaps not on the surface much, but she could remember a time when she had felt that way. Something about seeing it in Kaylee now, she could treasure, even if she hadn't been in the mood to notice lately. Now that she was entrenched in those memories, it felt good.

Taking her leave of Kaylee (who mysteriously disappeared in the opposite direction of her bunk), Zoë next came upon Inara and Jayne in the kitchen, sitting across from each other and talking detachedly. The companion got to her feet immediately, wringing her hands in front of her and searching Zoë's mask of calm.

"Everyone's fine Inara," Zoë told her softly, "Cap'ns sleepin now." Inara nodded and smoothed her dress distractedly over her legs

"I . . . I think I'll go and sit with him. So he doesn't wake up alone."

Zoë would have told her that she didn't need to, Mal would be just as happy in whichever room he woke up as long as he was on his ship. However, she reminded herself how anxious she had been whenever Wash had had the misfortune to be injured. She would have gone to his side as well, and stayed there until the end of time if she had the chance.

"Go ahead Inara. I'm sure he'll be glad of it when he wakes."

When she was gone, Zoë looked down at Jayne grudgingly, slouched in his chair and staring at his hands.

"And what are you waiting for?" She asked him coldly. The burly man got to his feet, looking at her, but away from her.

"My job to make sure you people still breathin." He barked gruffly. "We get paid today?"

"That we did Jayne."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded to himself as though that had been his purpose all along. He glanced up and met her eyes for only a second before slouching off towards his bunk.

Sighing and rubbing her arm tenderly, Zoë followed him down the hall and put a hand on the hatch leading down to their quarters. It was cold, cold and lonely already.

* * *

The emptiness of their quarters set the dull ache to pounding again. All distractions withdrawn like a curtain from a stage left Zoë shivering lonely in the darkness. She leaned back against the ladder and surveyed the room, taking in their wedding picture hanging close to the mirror next to the closet. The open closet, his loud colored shirts stark against the brown of her clothing. She left them there so that when she dressed in the morning, she could still detect the smell of him on everything she owned. He was looking across at her in the picture, staring at her with wide blue eyes, staring at her as though she was all there was in the world, staring at her like he sometimes did the stars as he soared. Her name was on his lips, and the words, I do.

Carefully and tentatively, she undressed herself, pulling on one of his shirts gingerly over her wounded arm. It smelled like him, the feel of it softer than anything she owned. She poured herself a glass of water from the sink in the corner and dutifully swallowed the pills she had been given. She slipped into bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what a day of enlightenment she had survived. She had never known exactly how much the entire crew cared, and how much they meant to each other. Each one faced with the new reality that any of them could be killed at any time.

His arm slipped beneath the small of her back, he had been waiting for her just as she knew he would be. Gently he kissed her neck and inhaled deeply of her curls.

"Baby," he whispered, "why won't you talk to me?"

Zoë closed her eyes. She knew she was imagining things, knew this wasn't real, but she could smell him, feel him, hear his voice whispering in her ear. Perhaps if she laid there and said nothing, this would continue forever. Suddenly he pulled away, letting her go and sitting up in the bed, looking down at her with such affection it made her hurt. She could vaguely feel the sleeping pill beginning to take effect and she fought it stubbornly. The real reason she hadn't slept, afraid that if she did she would miss a single second of that gaze. Wash made to stand and Zoë reached out for him wildly.

"Don't leave!" she gasped with pain at the sudden movement in her arm, but it didn't stop her, wouldn't. He returned to her side, clasping her hand and kissing it fondly.

"You have to do it sometime Zoë." He told her softly, she could hear the pain in his voice, could hear the struggle within herself reflected in his words.

"Not ready yet husband." She whispered and he kissed her again, on each eyelid.

"You never will be, just got to do it. I know you can baby, you're so strong."

"What happens if I do?" She clutched his hand to her as though he would disappear like a curl of smoke from Inara's incense. Burn away if he only passed too close to a star. "When I wake up tomorrow, will you be gone?"

"Yes and no." he allowed gently, stroking her hair and pushing it from her face. "You won't see me, but I'll be around. I'm a leaf on the wind, I'm everywhere and nowhere."

"Don't soar away just yet." Zoë insisted, pulling him to her and putting his face in her hands. "Not without me."

"Don't worry love; we'll fly again soon enough. You and I, on the same breeze that brought us together, my dearest lamby toes."

"Wash, don't make me say it."

Her husband was suddenly very serious, "You have to Zoë," he begged, "Do it for yourself, you have to live again."

"Just kiss me, kiss me one more time baby."

He obliged without argument, kissing her long and warm and tender. Zoë could feel herself slipping and she clutched at him feebly, her stoic mask crumbling, every part of her screaming for him to stay. However, she knew her time was running out, she had to say it now if she was going to wake up in the morning. Indeed, all of this, since that moment the stake had pierced his flesh; things had been like walking through a dream. A terrible, dark world from where laughter had been abolished and the sun had shone only on the parts of her she allowed to be exposed. It was time to sleep, and time to wake. Clutching her husband to her, she whispered the words into his embrace. Feeling the texture of his hair, the feel of his skin, the touch of his fingers on the trembling wires of her body. Her world burst with the music of their love as he played her, touched her and brought forth the beauty she had not known she possessed. Like a dream, he was gone.

He had become a breeze. A cool draft icing the warmth of her even as her mind drifted into the world in which he still roamed. She knew that when she woke in the morning, it would be for the first time. The ship would keep flying, no matter how begrudgingly; Serenity would go from planet to planet, star to star. Her crew would go on as well, the blood in her veins, the beating heart within her breast. They would eat meals and laugh at the same table he had laughed at, sit in the same chair he had sat in, they would learn and they would grow. Some would learn how to love again, some sooner than would others.

Kaylee would learn to be responsive to Simon's words more than his touch. Jayne would learn that people respected him and cared for him no matter his tough guy persona. River would learn that a person's castle was wherever their love lay. Inara, that fear shouldn't stop you from living your life. Simon that the world is full of pleasantries as well as pains, and Mal, that there is always room to love, and to forgive.

Zoë would wake with the knowledge that she had had the chance to say goodbye to the man she loved, and though a concept foreign to her, a chance to grieve.

As she drifted into slumber, she allowed herself this one chance to weep, and the tears came quick and cleansing as she lay. Zoë closed her eyes.

* * *

The End everybody, thank you so much for reading, please take the time to review, whether its constructive or not, just so I know what you thought of it. Thank you again sooo much, writing this has really helped me get closure after Wash's untimely death, and I hope reading it has done the same for you. Thanks for all the lovely reviews; I didn't set out to make anyone cry! lol, ok maybe I did . . . a little. I hope I didn't disappoint as far as the plot goes, I wanted to tie it up fairly quickly since I hadn't really planned on giving it that much time anyway, the main point was always saying goodbye. So . . . Goodbye! 

_The dead don't die, they look on and help_

_D.H. Lawrence _

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